by Brian Godawa
Their Amorite helpers had no idea what they were making, but they gathered their ingredients for the angel who used Lot to help craft the ammunition now loaded in the catapults.
Lot showed them how to use the torches to light the incendiary devices and the catapults began to barrage the town with their projectiles.
But because of their special creation, these projectiles did not just hit targets and demolish them; they erupted into huge explosions of fire that could not be put out with simple water brigades. Their explosive impact demolished a hundred foot perimeter. They would burn in an expanding ring of fire that consumed dozens of homes and their inhabitants. It struck fear into the hearts of the giant clan. Their fledgling city was going up in flames.
So they did the only thing they could do in such a situation. They rushed the catapults with all their numbers.
They were met in the field by the Amorites with the clash of bronze, iron, and wood.
• • • • •
By the palace walls, Abram could see the fires throughout the town, and the clashing line of combatants like a flood.
They had crossed the moat and Mikael threw a grappling hook high above them to climb the walls.
“We have less time than you think,” said Mikael.
Mikael and Uriel climbed up first with supernatural speed, and then they both yanked Abram up like he was a mere cat tied to the rope.
Abram got on the other side of the wall and looked around him. The place was empty. All the soldiers had assembled for battle down below, but certainly Arba would require some of his giants to guard his palace? Had he secretly left? Were there other tunnels he was not aware of to make good the king’s escape?
But Abram got his answer. The three of them heard the sound of growls and they turned to face the palace guards: A pack of five black dire wolves, twice the size of a human and full of muscle and claw.
The wolves leapt before the angels could even think of defense.
But these were archangels. They did not have to think. They moved with the fluidity of Karabu.
Mikael flipped in the air over the first wolf as it dove for him. Uriel then impaled its head in the ground with one swift downward plunge.
Mikael landed on the second one’s back and cut its throat with lightning speed. The body tumbled to the ground spurting blood.
A third one leapt for Mikael, jaws open with fangs bared. He swept around and beheaded it in midair.
The other two wolves pounced on Uriel, who ducked and the two of them knocked into each other, rolling to the ground in a pile of fur and fangs, where Abram promptly disemboweled one as Uriel dispatched the other.
But the gutted one gave out a howl that resounded throughout the palace, and brought another howl of response from the other side.
Mikael said, “We better keep moving. There are more coming.”
• • • • •
Sarai sniffled a bit. She was still fearful of her fate and was praying to El Shaddai every second she could.
Naqiya walked over to her with a small vial. “Here, take it.”
“What is it?” asked Sarai.
“It is a drug. It will numb your senses, and you will not even remember what happened in the morning.”
“Why would you offer me this?”
“It is my only chance of revenge on the slobbering pig.”
Sarai thought it through. It would ruin Arba’s pleasure for his object of lust to not experience the full debasement of his perversion and worse yet to have no memory of it. For it was the victim’s memory of being desecrated and abused that gave a monster the sweet aftertaste of power over his victim.
Only another victim could figure this out. And Naqiya was another victim — a vengeful one.
“No,” said Sarai.
“What do you mean, ‘no?’” barked Naqiya.
“You were right. I have been too ignorant for too long of the cruelty in this world. If I am to suffer, I will not retreat into ignorance and detachment from what El Shaddai has given me to suffer. It is too much a part of too many people’s lives. I will not deaden my wits. I will not run like a coward.”
Naqiya snorted, “You are one piece of work, are you not?”
Sarai stared into the distance, her mind made up.
“Look at me when I talk to you!” yelled Naqiya. “Now, you listen to me. I am no coward either. I have suffered beatings, abuse, degradation and humiliation that you cannot even conceive of. But I now carry the royal seed in my womb.”
“Naqiya, I did not call you a coward,” whispered Sarai.
“Shut up! You call me Majesty!”
“I am sorry, your majesty. I meant no disrespect.”
Naqiya could not find anything in Sarai’s purity to feed her hatred, which made her even more frustrated. Sarai kept responding with graciousness.
Finally, Naqiya blurted out, “You are nothing but a shriveled up barren graveyard! But I will bring forth a giant king who will one day rule this entire land! I will birth a god!”
Sarai would not speak. She kept her head bowed in sadness and prayed for the giant queen before her.
Chapter 55
The battle for Kiriath-Arba quickly degenerated into a bloodbath of carnage and decimation. The giant clans were good warriors and fought valiantly, but the catapulted incendiary weapons had consumed their village and crushed their morale. The giants were desperate to stop the firebombing, so they lost their strategic edge and were pushed back into the village until the thousands of Amorite forces wedging them in overcame them. Their homes were razed, and their families executed.
Mamre and Abram knew that to allow any to survive would only inspire that generation with the incentive to raise up and one day bring blood vengeance for their people. It would be endless war with endless bloodshed. This would have to be total annihilation. No slaves taken, no booty. These were children of Ashtart; they were the Seed of the Serpent.
• • • • •
Inside the stone palace walls, King Arba looked out and saw his hillside in flames and his people ravaged. He knew his time was short. He would take no more chances at waiting. He would take what was his before he lost it again.
He crashed open the door to Sarai’s chamber and found Naqiya in a corner weeping and Sarai on the floor praying with the long satin sheet gathered over her in useless protection.
He grunted pleasure to himself and walked over to Sarai. He grabbed the satin sheet and whipped it off of her.
But it was not Sarai underneath. It was Abram. He turned and threw a dagger at Arba, hitting him in the left eye. It buried deep and Arba bellowed with a howl so piercing it hurt Abram’s eardrums.
Arba grabbed his wound and stumbled backward. He noticed with his good eye that Naqiya had been tied up and her weeping was into a gag that kept her from alerting him.
Two archangels stepped out of the shadows. Mikael and Uriel with Sarai.
Arba screamed again with both pain and rage.
He pulled his sword and started slashing madly at Abram.
Abram was outmuscled. His sword flew from his hands, cracked in half by the sheer force of Arba’s strength. But rather than stab him or slice him, Arba threw down his sword and grabbed Abram by the throat holding him up to the wall.
Abram’s eyes darted over to the angels. They were not moving. He tried to scream for their help, but his voice was being choked out of him as he hung from the vise grip of Arba’s large six-fingered hands.
Abram did not understand why the angels were not coming to his rescue. It did not make sense.
They only looked at each other and Uriel held out his hand to Mikael stopping him.
Suddenly, Arba’s grip went soft around Abram’s neck.
Abram saw his good eye turn up and the monster suddenly stopped, dropped Abram, and then dropped dead at Abram’s feet.
Abram was trying to massage his throat and get his breath back. He snapped at the two angels, “Why did you just stand there?”
/> Uriel said matter-of-factly, “You want us to always save you deus ex machina, do you?” It was a reference to how Greek theater plays often ended with heroes saved by a god coming out of nowhere.
“But he could have killed me!”
“Not a chance. Your dagger pierced his brain. It just took a little longer than I thought it would. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
Sarai ran to Abram and hugged him for all her life. They kissed. They could not stop kissing each other.
Uriel muttered, “It is not the end of the world yet.”
Abram looked at Uriel’s little smirk, then gestured toward Arba and Naqiya and said, “Hang them.”
Mikael led Uriel, Abram, and Sarai through the courtyard to open the palace doors and allow the soldiers to enter and plunder. But before they could reach the door, while they were still out in the middle of the courtyard — and vulnerable — they suddenly stopped. The four of them gathered close to each other and drew their swords as they watched twenty large black dire wolves surround them with snarling teeth.
This would not be so easy as with the five. They would be protecting two humans now. By the time they could kill half of the wolves, the other half would have overwhelmed Abram and Sarai and be licking their carcasses.
Uriel saw the door was too far for them to make it to let all the soldiers inside.
Uriel then said, “I told you we should have done something about the rest of them, but you shrugged it off.”
Mikael said, “Uriel, now is not the time to argue.”
“It is never the time to argue. But I am right.”
The wolves crouched to make their move.
The warriors readied their swords.
“Okay, okay, you are right,” said Mikael.
Uriel smiled with satisfaction.
But the head Dire wolf pounced.
But suddenly, a storm of arrows rained down upon the dire wolves and filled them with wood and iron.
They howled in pain. Many were dead instantly, others were pinned to the ground with a dozen arrows to bleed to death.
The four of them looked up into the parapet to see that Abram’s soldiers had already scaled the walls. They waved to their patriarch, who reluctantly waved back.
Abram commented, “I guess that would be humana ex machina.”
The angels smiled at each other.
Uriel added, “But I was right, was I not, Mikael?”
Mikael rolled his eyes and sighed. “You are never going to let me live that down, are you?”
“Do not fret, Mikael,” responded Uriel. “It is not half as bad as being teased about one’s stature.”
Mikael shrugged in deference. He could not deny that Uriel was teased too often about his size by the other archangels, and Mikael was guilty of sometimes joining in.
Sarai said, “Let us go home.”
Abram added, “I need a nap.”
Sarai looked at him with his eyes narrowed at her. She knew what he really meant. It was amazing to her how the difference between good and evil men was not their universal sexual impulse, but rather where they directed it, to evil ends or to good ends. She was thankful she loved a good man.
The king and queen were left hanging dead in their garden to be burned later in a bonfire with the bodies of the other dead. The sky was already full of carrion eaters circling the massive dead.
One vulture swept down into the king’s garden and landed on the king’s head. It was about to pick away at the flesh, when it was shooed away by a bent over crooked old witch. She cawed and hit at the bird with a rock, forcing it to fly back up into the sky above to wait for a better moment.
The old witch had been beaten and left for dead, but had found her way up to the garden with singular intent.
She approached the swinging body of Queen Naqiya, her pregnant belly, still carrying her royal seed, now dead along with her.
The witch was chanting spells through mumbling lips as she reached up to the belly of Naqiya, pulled out a butcher blade from her cloak, and plunged it in, ripping an opening across her gut.
The hag reached up into the womb and pulled out the dead child from her belly.
She cut off the umbilical cord and turned the large infant over. He had the signature long neck, strong musculature, and blonde hair. But he was blue with death.
She pulled out some herbs and continued her chanting as she rubbed the little body and slapped it several times.
Suddenly, the infant opened its eyes and yelped, then began to cry.
The witch picked up the infant and cuddled it in her arms. A demoniacal grin spread across her face and she said with pride, “The royal seed lives. Long live Anak, son of Arba. He shall be a mighty ruler and his sons shall rule this land, the sons of Anak. And he shall have his vengeance upon the sons of Abram. I vow this to the serpent god who rules Canaan.”
Chapter 56
Time passed and Abram and Sarai rebuilt their lives. But there was one thing they could not build: A family. As much as El Shaddai promised them, those promises seemed farther and farther away with each year. Abram could only imagine that his servant Eliezer, who had been adopted into their family, must be the heir of his family name. How else was El Shaddai going to accomplish such a task with Sarai long past childbearing age and Lot moved back into the pentapolis of wickedness?
Sarai on the other hand, could stand the impossible no longer. She loved El Shaddai, and believed in him, but it dawned on her that she would have to take things into her own hands if she was to fulfill God’s promise of a family dynasty.
She did the only thing that made sense to her, she offered Abram one of her servants as concubine to produce the promised seed. It was an acceptable custom in the land to do so, and she herself was old and useless anyway, so what did it matter?
Sarai barged into the tent one evening, pulling Hagar, an Egyptian maid, with her. Abram looked up surprised. He had been praying for El Shaddai to give him some little sign of encouragement after years of hearing nothing.
Sarai was irritated. She sputtered out the words, “El Shaddai has seen fit to prevent me from bearing children. Go into my servant Hagar and give me children through her.”
Abram was speechless.
Sarai was impatient. “Do you not find her pretty?”
“Sarai.”
“Abram, if you love me, you will give me children through my servant.”
It was clear to Abram she would not take no for an answer. And after all, it was for the sake of the Promise. El Shaddai’s own promise. Eliezer might be heir worthy, but actual children made much more sense to him. At least, it was making much more sense to him as he looked at Hagar’s beautiful young face and supple form. Sarai knew Abram had always had a predilection for Egyptians, and even in this terrible situation, Sarai was thinking of her husband.
Abram did not like the idea of having more than one wife. Variety was the herb of life, but Sarai was already enough to handle as it was. Though he loved her more than life itself, he could barely understand her emotional ways. Now, he imagined the stress of two women’s impossible demands to please. He felt like he was walking into a volcano and would regret it later.
But Hagar really was looking very good.
She looked very good three times that night. Abram felt like he broke a new record at this age. He had always loved the Egyptian way of doing things when it came to beauty and love.
But the regret started almost immediately.
As soon as Hagar told Abram she was with child, Sarai felt her world implode.
Sarai had come in from gathering some barley stalks for food when she noticed Hagar in the tent, holding her tummy protectively and watching Sarai with contempt.
Sarai stopped what she was doing and walked over to Hagar, glaring back at her.
A slight smirk crossed Hagar’s lips. “I need to rest. I am with child.”
Condescension oozed with every word from Hagar.
Sarai said, “How dare you.”
She motioned to him, and he came over to her.
She was steaming mad. Abram swallowed.
Sarai spoke with venom, “May the wrong done to me be upon your head.”
Abram did not say anything. He did not know what he had done wrong now, and he did not want to add to the boiling cauldron.
“I gave Hagar for you to have your fun, and as soon as she was pregnant, she looked upon me with contempt! May El Shaddai judge between me and you this awful wrong done to me!”
Abram was flustered. He would not let this go on. “Sarai, you speak to me as if it is my fault.”
“It is your fault! You impregnated her.”
“But you gave her to me against my better judgment.”
“Now you are blaming me!” said Sarai.
“I am not blaming you.”
“Well then what is it when you say against your better judgment? That sounds accusational to me.”
He knew he could not win. Nothing he said would change her mind. It only fueled the fire.
So he decided to take control of the conversation.
“Sarai, she is your responsibility. She is your servant to do with her as you please. So go do what you must.”
“All right, I will. I will do with her what I must.”
Sarai stormed away and Abram sighed, having dodged the arrow for just the moment.
Sarai stomped back to the tent, whipped back the curtain, and went right up to Hagar, and started slapping her in the face. Hagar tried to cover up, but Sarai was relentless.
Hagar tried to cry out, “I am with child!”
Sarai said, “Yes, yes, we all know you are with child. You are endlessly reminding me you are with child. And fortunately this is not going to hurt that child. This will only sting you for being insubordinate and disdainful of your mistress.”
Finally, she stopped.
Hagar looked up at her, and Sarai still saw that contemptuous look in her eyes, so she started to slap her again.
